Washed Away
by CareneNara
Summary: A day in George Weasley's life after Fred's death.


_This story was written for The House Competition.  
_ _House: Slytherin  
_ _Category: Short Story  
_ _Prompt: [weather] rain._

 _Word count: Approx 1,533_

...

The rain was pouring outside, and George Weasley lay in bed, tossing and turning. It has been a week since Fred had died and George could still hear his twin's laughter echoing. The rain always reminded George of Fred. When they were kids, the two of them would always sneak out to play in the rain. He had never imagined life without Fred. He couldn't. It was them against the world, and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Fred was gone. He had cried his eyes out for five days. And now that his eyes were dried, the world cried for him.

The rainfall was going strong and hadn't stopped since the previous day. George peered out of his window. He stared at the open field, wishing the past week did not happen. After Fred's funeral, George hardly had the energy to get out of bed. He could not sleep or eat. He tried talking to his family, but it only left a bigger hole in his life and the bed next to him seemed to create a wider space between him and his loss. And he wondered if he would eventually wither away like this?

George believed he could never be the same again. He sometimes spoke to himself, in the empty room, hoping Fred would answer him, or finish his sentence, but it never came. He knew he was setting himself up for more pain, but he just couldn't help it. He had never been alone. Never been without Fred, and now he had a lifetime of living without his twin, his soulmate.

"Fred. I miss you," He whispered, tears welling up. "It's been so hard. We've never talked about how to move on if one of us...if one of us left. You could say I'm struggling without you and I'm just a mess. If only you could see me now. You'd laugh at how pathetic I look. I tried to get back into our shop, but Merlin, it's hard without you. I wish you hadn't left, but death is inevitable I guess. I just hoped we would die together, I hoped we would join the other side by planning a big prank on everyone out there. But that's not how life works, is it?"

While this didn't help too much, George felt better after it. He realized a while back that the hole in his heart could never be filled, but he could still try to love for the both of them, look after their shop, and maybe try and make their dreams come true. Fred would want that. Fred always wanted to inspire others to follow their dreams. He definitely inspired George, and he looked up to him.

Every day he pushed himself to get better, but every day he failed. He did try, he got up from bed, talked to his family, his friends, but they all looked at him differently. Talked to him so cautiously as though he was glass. Fragile and easily broken. He tried to appreciate their gesture but he only ended up breaking down later, in the confinement of his room. No matter how much he tried to feel better, depression slowly crept into him, and he appreciated the dark more than the light. The rain more than the sun. Because he could hide his sadness in the dark, and the rain muffled his cries and hid his tears. And no one was there to make him feel happy, Fred was the only one who could bring back the happiness when he was sad, but Fred was gone, and so was his smile. He could not find his laugh anymore. A week went by and it was the longest and slowest week to pass. He thought of going back to Fred's grave, but he could not find his courage.

"Fred, are you here? Help me be better."

His heart broke with every conversation he made with the empty air. He reached out to grab at something that wasn't there, and something that was never going to exist anymore. George laughed at his own desperation and idiocy. "What am I doing?" he asked himself. "He's not coming back. Pick yourself up, for Merlin's sake." Making up his mind to help himself, he got up from his bed and walked towards the door. Grabbing the handle, he took a deep breath as he opened the door, and he looked back as the rain started to calm down. "I guess this is goodbye, brother."

It was still dark when he entered the kitchen, but he could hear someone inside.

"Mum?"

Molly turned back and looked at her son in shock.

"George? What are you doing up?" she looked like she had been crying, and she looked exhausted like she had been up all night.

"I woke up early," he lied. "And you? What are you doing? Are you all right?"

"Fine, fine. Come. Have some breakfast. I already made some food, just in case."

Molly handed George a plate of scrambled eggs, with shaky hands. George looked up to see his mother crying. He stood up and hugged, finally letting himself cry again. It has been a while since he found comfort since he sought solace, he realized how selfish he had been, thinking that only he hurt the most. He had been stupid to think that his family did not need to be comforted as well. Hugging his mother, hearing her cry made him feel so much more regret for ignoring his family and not accepting their warmth. Maybe they needed comfort as much as he did, but they tried to be strong for him. He had been selfish not realizing that.

"It's okay, Mum. But we'll be alright, won't we? We can make it through for him. We can make it through. He would want us to be happy. I know he would."

Molly's arms grew tighter around George. Her tears soaked his shirt. "I miss him so much... I just miss him so much. You remind me of him, of course." George winced. "I look around hoping he would enter the room, that this was all a big joke. I wish I could hear him one more time. Hear his laugh."

"Me too, but Fred won't have it. Us crying over him. He would jinx us so hard we'd have to find new ways to fix ourselves up."

Molly laughed weakly. She missed his son, but holding George made her feel better. She was worried about how George had been after Fred had passed, but having this conversation made her realize they both needed the comfort, to talk about Fred, to let him go while keeping the memories.

"I'm glad you're here, George. To talk to me. We'll help each other heal. I think the family needs to start being happy again."

"Harry and Hermione need to be here too. We all need healing after the terrible war."

Molly looked at her son, proud of the man he'd become. Despite all the pranks he and Fred did, they were still good sons. They had grown so much as a person and with this new beginning, George had become so strong.

And as the rain stopped, the sun began to rise, sun rays glowing inside the Burrow, warming up the kitchen.

"I think he is happy, don't you think so?" George mused.

"I'm sure he is. He must have met the Mauraders by now. He must be having fun. Thank Merlin."

They both laughed at that. That would be Fred's absolute dream. They sighed in relief. At least he won't be lonely there. He would be having fun. He would be looked after.

The house slowly started to come to life as people started getting up from their sleep. Hermione's cat Crookshanks was still in the Burrows, and he came in sensing the new emotions in the kitchen. He sat up at the kitchen table and meowed impatiently.

"Hermione might want him back now," George said, petting Crookshanks.

"Hey, mum. I think we should visit Fred today. I have some things I need to tell him."

Molly looked happy with that.

"I guess that's not a bad idea. We could pack lunch. I'll make him his favorites."

Talking really did help them. The atmosphere felt better. Hearts were slowly healing and the family looked a little happier. The smiles that were lost were found within a few minutes. The sun was finally shining and the rain that had lasted for two days had come to a stop. It looked like the universe was happy along with the Weasley's, the depressing life had cleared. The air seemed lighter. Light had finally entered the Burrow and everything seemed all right with hopes of a good life. The future did seem promising, and even though Fred had left early, he was still with them, and the memories he left behind was perhaps the best memories they could have asked for.


End file.
